Month: November 2014

Bill and the Bed Slat

Biil and his mean mama

Biil and his mean mama

My mother was hard on my brother, Bill. Totally unconcerned about his tender psyche and self-esteem, she spanked him when he was a tender child. She was a tiny, “not tall” woman with a squeaky voice to match, sounding a lot like Minnie Mouse. It was ridiculous seeing her flap away at one of us with a plastic fly swat, but she gave it her best shot from time to time, anyway. Not wanting to be part of such a ridiculous show and avoid further embarrassment was the most likely inducement to better behavior.

Bill maintains he got more than his share of spankings, but most of us feel she neglected him. One day when he was about six, he confronted her, “Mama, you wupped me five times today!” Stricken by this accusation, she answered him, “I know son. I should have wupped you more, but I can’t give you all my time. I have four other children who need wupping.”

The last time she brutally beat him, he was eighteen years old, over six feet four inches tall, and had ragged her one day till she wanted to murder him. After a final smart remark as he went out the back door, he bent over and waggled his behind at her. Overcome with fury, she grabbed up a bed slat conveniently standing beside the back door and threatened him.

“Bend over and grab your knees, boy!” He thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He bent over, grabbed his knees just as she demanded, and waggled his behind at her again for good measure, just in case she hadn’t seen enough the first time. She drew back and smacked him across the rear as hard as she could manage. POW! The percussion verberated across the woods like a rifle shot!

Bill fell to the ground, proclaiming, “You broke my back! You broke my back!

Terrified, she imagined herself going to jail for child abuse, even though he was past eighteen and towered more than a foot above her, leaving two little girls without the comfort of a mother. Mustering bravado, she threatened. “Get up from there or I’ll get you again, boy!”

He hopped up and strode around the corner of the house, laughing to my dad who’d enjoyed the whole episode. “That smarts! I didn’t think she could hit that hard!”

Happy Birthday Bill. Watch out for Mother!

Miss Tillie’s Troubles With Samson

Miss Tillie, my Sunday School Teacher held my attention like no other before or since, giving the class candy, bubble gum, and tiny little paper umbrellas if we learned our Bible verses. Mother thought she ought not to bribe us to do our lessons. I thought Continue reading →

Let ’em Get Their Own Damned Cheesecake!

A simple comment can say so much.  For instance, I overheard a comment from my seventeen-year-old son that cleared things up for me far more than hours of counseling ever could have. He was trying to enlist his sister in some planned mayhem, probably because he had no money for gasoline, and she replied, “Now, Mom and Dad aren’t going to be happy when they find this out.” Continue reading →

Rubbernecking

 

Rubberneck 1Rubberneck 2

Though they were not actually deranged, they might have been described as teetering somewhere between pleasantly eccentric and moderately maddening, depending on whether you met them just met them socially or had to interact with them on a regular basis. Both held Master’s Degrees, Cookie’s in Education and Uncle Riley’s in Mathmetics. Cookie was head of a large public school system in Texas and Uncle Riley Continue reading →

Fifty-Two Pies

I love a well-stocked pantry. It makes me feel good to can and freeze food so that I can pull out good, wholesome “fast food” to serve at a moment’s notice. My husband, Bud loves pie. One summer, we had a bumper crop of butternut squash, so I reasoned it would be a great idea to make some of these up into pies and freeze them. I rolled
enough piecrust to build a driveway, prepared large kettles of pie filling, and kept my oven going till I had fifty-two beautiful butternut pies ready for the freezer. My kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off, but I was proud of those pies as I wrapped them and stacked them in the freezer, anticipating the pleasure of pulling out a pie from time to time to enjoy after a good meal with family and friends, along with a good story.

It didn’t exactly work out as I planned. I hadn’t taken Bud’s love of pie into consideration but I did get a good story out of the deal. Bud was delighted with “his” pies. All the food at our house undergoes an immediate conversion the minute it is cooked and becomes “his” as in, “Is there any more of my apple pie?” or “Who ate the last piece of MY pie?” I wouldn’t dream of making a dessert to take to work without making an identical one for home. I don’t know if he would be more hurt if I “ran around” or “cooked around” on him. He still hasn’t forgiven me for giving away a strawberry-rhubarb pie over twenty years ago and still brings it up regularly.

Anyway, Bud and I had pie after dinner that night. It was delicious. He finished the pie off the next day after lunch. When he went to get “his” pie after dinner that night and found the pies all frozen, he was horrified. I explained to him, again, that I made them to freeze and serve over the next few months. Apparently, my first explanation had gone straight over his head, like so much of my mindless babbling. (We’ve been married fifty_two years. That’s how it works.) Frozen, in relationship to food he was planning to eat right then, is the F word at our house. We try to avoid it.

Heartbroken and betrayed, he self-righteously pulled a pie from freezer and left it on the counter to thaw overnight. He consoled himself with butternut squash pie for breakfast the next morning, adding it to his new breakfast menu. That was just the start. Unless there was another dessert on the menu, you can bet Bud had butternut squash pie, sequentially going through that mountain of pies in less than three months. When I had the satisfaction of eating the last, lonely piece of the final pie, Bud spoke what were very nearly his last words, “You ate my pie!”

Dear Carlos

Dear Carlos,

Upon hearing that I have been married for forty-seven years to a loving man, your friend asked if I had any advice for a young person considering marriage.  I have no special expertise or qualification for counseling, except forty-seven years’ experience in my own marriage, but I will share that with you.

  1. Respect is imperative. Take the time to see how he/she treats parents and siblings. If a person is not respectful to their family, take your cue from that. Definitely meet their family. That alone will answer a lot of questions about your possible future together. Remember, any children you have may be more like either of your family members than they are like either of you.
  2. Shared values. Discuss your values and expectations. Religion? How will you manage your money? Will you have children? Will you both work outside the home? How will you share responsibility? These factors end relationships every day.
  3. Don’t expect marriage to be 50/50. You will both have to give 100% to make it work. It took me a while to figure out my husband didn’t want to talk things out once a conflict was over. It’s okay to say, “Give me a little time. I am still mad.” It’s not okay to punish or be mean-spirited. Let go of your anger as soon as you can, then put it in the past.
  4. Loyalty. You have to put each other first. We have each other’s back. We trust each other, not wasting time on jealousy and games. We are together because we want to be, not because we have to be.
  5. Make sure the person you love will be your friend forever. You have to be comfortable together, not forever trying to meet their expectations.  You need to be able to laugh and cry together to get through the good times and the hard times.

Best of luck.

Linda

Buzzy, Sissy, and Squeaky

Buzzy and Squeaky FightingBuzzy, our four-year-old American Eskimo Dog is currently an only child.  He came to a home already run by Sissy, an Esky.  She was puppyish till Buzzy arrived, then immediately turned into a bipolar fun-police/grumpy old granny, alternately romping and bossing Buzzy.  He was only supposed to have fun at her discretion.  He enjoyed her Continue reading →

Coming to Jesus

Water headThough I wasn’t an actual heathen, I looked like one compared to my older sister Phyllis.  In her religious fervor, she never missed a church service, sang in the choir, and volunteered for all kinds of activities, while I dreaded Sunday mornings, knowing I’d have to sit through another long service.   This really rankled me, so one Sunday I decided to Continue reading →

Kindergarten Sex Ed?

Underdaddy, the writer is hilarious, but this child’s conversation is shocking.

Underdaddy's avatarUnderdaddy

When and how should kids learn about sex? Or any controversial subject?

Excellent Question.

Lets ponder a while before we answer. Recently my wife and I held an anatomy conference/discussion for our second grader, Calamity Jane. There were a few questions on the car ride home that prompted the discussion. She was unimpressed and we learned that she probably had already learned most of these things in school from other kids. The school is public and children can be expected to be exposed to all types of beliefs, opinions, and realities that they wouldn’t see otherwise. After the talk my wife and I both wondered if second grade was too late and when was the time frame, on average, that kids become exposed to life’s truths.

Today I learned that the answer, in some cases, is Kindergarten.

You heard me. Kindergarten.

What truths you ask?

All of them, from what…

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